


I'll Be Home For Christmas

by trulywicked



Series: Teen Wolf Drabbles [7]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Blues, Happy Ending, M/M, Missing Derek Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-27 18:57:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2702912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trulywicked/pseuds/trulywicked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Normally he liked the Christmas season but with his lover missing Stiles just can't get into the Christmas spirit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Be Home For Christmas

Whiskey colored eyes stared into the hot chocolate as it was stirred. He couldn’t sleep so figured he might as well fix some cocoa and then sit in front of the tree in the living room and think about his missing lover. It was the first Christmas since they’d gotten together and while Stiles had been out following every tiny lead on Derek’s whereabouts, the pack had decorated the apartment trying to cheer him up. It didn’t really work.

He sat in the ratty old armchair that they’d picked up off the side of the road. It had actually been Derek’s idea because he knew how to get all the old smells out of anything and well loved furniture was the most comfortable. Stiles had to agree, plus it had been free. They kept a truly ugly but incredibly soft afghan that Derek had carted around with him to New York and back draped over its back. Stiles wrapped himself in the afghan and stared at the twinkling lights of the tree.

He tried not to think about what Derek might be experiencing right now but things drifted into his mind anyway. Derek had promised him that they’d spend Christmas together and he wasn’t in the habit of breaking promises. That meant that whatever had happened, wherever he was, Derek wasn’t there willingly and for Derek that usually meant chained up and tortured. Stiles’ heart gave a painful lurch.

He hated that. He hated knowing that Derek was probably being hurt and Stiles was here, sitting helplessly in front of a brightly decorated tree, warm and safe and helpless to find and bring his lover back. He wanted to hurl the mug of cocoa at the tree, to tear all the holiday decorations down in a fury, to connect somehow and just _feel_ where Derek was, to force his own Goddamned Christmas Miracle.

And he couldn’t. 

Instead he sat his mug on the coffee table, it had gone cold anyway and brought the afghan closer, breathing in to try and catch a whiff of wild forest and thunderstorms that he associated with Derek. Then he heard a loud thud at the window and surged up, grabbing the fireplace poker and whirling, ready to swing, and saw a form crawling in.

And the poker went clattering to the ground.

Derek fell out of the window to the floor under Stiles’ stunned gaze. His henley was torn and dirty and stained with blood and the state of his jeans was unmentionable. He raised a haggard, exhausted face to meet Stiles’ eyes as he tried to get his hands and feet under him to stand. Then he smiled a little, “Told you I’d be home for Christmas.”


End file.
